


Feel You From the Inside

by PersephoneJones



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Smut, Literally the only reason I wrote this is for the buttsex, M/M, TMH era, Take Me Home Tour, Utter Filth, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneJones/pseuds/PersephoneJones
Summary: Harry brushes by Zayn and Zayn thinks there might have been a little more body contact than is strictly necessary to get into the room. He smirks to himself as he locks the door, then turns around to find Harry staring at him with a wolfish look in his eye.“Decided you were going to play dirty tonight, Malik?” he says, and his voice is only about half an octave lower than normal, but, fuck, if it isn’t sexy as hell. Zayn’s mouth waters but he maintains a composed exterior and replies, “You’re the one who escalated it, love. How many times have I smacked your bum onstage, and you never drenched me before. You know that’s off limits.”Or, Harry gets Zayn wet on stage, and it winds up working out in his favor.





	Feel You From the Inside

**Author's Note:**

> So someone sent me a Zarry meme and the second I saw it I thought "That's a fic begging to be written." I've never been much into Zarry but there have always been...rumors, and Zayn and Harry are two exceptionally gorgeous human beings, so who wouldn't want to see them enjoying each other? 
> 
> Title is from the song "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and remember to treat people with kindness.

It starts when Zayn slaps Harry on the ass, hard, while they’re onstage, and it only gets worse from there.

Harry retaliates by dousing Zayn with water, which doesn’t usually happen. Zayn has informed all of his bandmates, with the unblinking coolness of a sociopath, that he will murder them in their sleep if they get him or his hair wet during a show. _Especially_ his hair. Zayn will definitely be plotting Harry’s death later, but right now they’re in the middle of a show (too many witnesses) and he feels the situation warrants immediate retribution. So when Harry, with Zayn hot on his heels, ducks behind one of the set pieces to grab a fresh towel, Zayn pins Harry against the wall and palms his cock through his jeans. _See how well you can perform with a raging boner, you curly bastard_ , he thinks. Unfortunately, the music for the next song starts and Liam sticks his head around the set piece, looking daggers at the two of them, so Zayn doesn’t have time to really get Harry going. Damn it.

Next, in between songs, Harry grabs one of his ever-present bananas, peels it, and, with his back to the audience, deep-throats it, while staring Zayn in the eye. Zayn swallows hard and Niall, standing next to him, nearly pisses himself laughing. Zayn responds by throwing his arms around Niall and giving him a big kiss on the cheek. Harry looks grumpy. Good.

A little while later, while they’re having a bit of banter, someone throws a candy thong on stage. Harry, being Harry, picks it up and pulls it on over his jeans. The band and the audience are laughing, but Harry’s not done yet. He approaches Zayn and Zayn leans down and takes a bite of the thong. The audience screams and Harry laughs, but Zayn sees Harry’s dick twitch in his super-skinny jeans when Zayn’s face gets close, and he gives Harry a wicked grin.

As they group up behind Harry while he sings his solo in WMYB (after Louis hisses to Zayn, off-mic, “Why don’t you two fuckers just blow each other on stage?”) Harry fires the final salvo in the battle. Casually reaching a hand behind him, he makes contact with Zayn’s balls, and cups them. Zayn can feel a flush rising in his cheeks and he doesn’t know if it’s he’s embarrassed or turned on. Maybe a little of both. Harry releases his grip, all five boys scatter to different points around the stage, and they finish the song. After taking a bow and thanking the audience again, they run backstage.

They’re staying overnight in this city, so this is one of the times when they are hustled directly into SUVs and whisked away to their hotel. Zayn loses track of Harry in the shuffle, and they wind up in different vehicles for the ride back. On the way there, Zayn mulls things over. In his opinion, it had been a pitched battle. No clear winner. He wonders if he has the energy to reinitiate hostilities at the hotel, but eventually decides he’s tired, and a bit peckish, so he plans to call it a night.

Zayn has been in his room just long enough to grab a quick shower and slip into shorts and a t-shirt, when there’s a knock at the door. He is immediately, and quite justifiably, suspicious. He checks the peephole and is less than surprised to see Harry standing there. With the safety lock engaged, Zayn inches the door open and peeks one eye around it. “What?” he demands.

“Nice manners, Malik. Let me in,” Harry tells him.

Zayn laughs. “Nice try, Styles. No.”

Harry pouts. He’s so non-threatening that pouting is his best bet for coercing people to do his bidding. He’s tried to be domineering and commanding, but everyone just laughs at him. Pouting definitely yields more satisfactory results.

“Put that lip away, Harry. I know you’re up to something.” Harry looks at Zayn with wide eyes. “What could I possibly be up to?” He holds his hands out to show they’re empty, pats his pockets down, and lifts his shirt hem to reveal that he doesn’t have any weapons tucked into his waistband.

“Alright, fine,” Zayn says with a chuckle, and unlocks the door. Harry brushes by Zayn and Zayn thinks there might have been a little more body contact than is strictly necessary to get into the room. He smirks to himself as he locks the door, then turns around to find Harry staring at him with a wolfish look in his eye.

“Decided you were going to play dirty tonight, Malik?” he says, and his voice is only about half an octave lower than normal, but, fuck, if it isn’t sexy as hell. Zayn’s mouth waters but he maintains a composed exterior and replies, “You’re the one who escalated it, love. How many times have I smacked your bum onstage, and you never drenched me before. You know that’s off limits.”

Harry steps closer. “All the times I’ve had your cock in my mouth, and you’re gonna tell me I have _limits_?” He reaches out and wraps his hands around Zayn’s biceps, leaning in close. “I’m pretty sure the first time I swallowed your jizz, everything stopped being off limits.”

Zayn gulps, hard. He looks up at Harry and slowly licks his lips, enjoying the way Harry’s pupils dilate and his gaze locks on Zayn’s tongue as it slides across. Harry leans in and catches Zayn’s lower lip, first sucking and then nipping at it. Zayn inhales sharply and, at the sound, Harry begins kissing him, in earnest, licking into his mouth. Zayn reaches up to tangle his fingers in Harry’s curls, and Harry grunts, so Zayn gives the curls a sharp tug, which elicits a full-blown moan.

Zayn smiles into the kiss. “Such a slut for having your hair pulled, Harold,” he teases.

“You haven’t any room to talk about me being a slut, Z. I saw your face when I had the banana in my mouth. You wanted that to be you. You were gagging for it.”

Zayn can’t really deny this, as Harry is very skilled in that department, and ever since they’d started this...whatever it is...Zayn hasn’t liked to go more than a couple of days, at most, without getting Harry on his knees in a hotel room, or on the bus, or, a couple of times, in a secluded area backstage. All things considered, though, as much as Zayn enjoys it, Harry enjoys it equally — if not more. There have been times when Zayn hasn’t even been thinking about it and Harry has offered, expecting nothing in return — although Zayn usually manages to get him back later.

In any case, they are both quite satisfied with the situation and it does save a lot of hassle to have a mate on hand to help work out pent up sexual frustration. Pulling groupies is often impractical, not to mention fraught with potential danger, especially since they tend to carry smartphones. And, really, thinks Zayn, staring at Harry’s mouth, it would be a goddamned waste if those lips weren’t being used to suck dick on the regular. The fact that he is also eager to put his long fingers to good use is a happy bonus.

“You got lube?” Harry asks bluntly, skipping right to the point. Zayn has to laugh at him even while his cock starts to swell in anticipation.

“Of course I do. ‘ve always got it around in case you show up at my door looking like you’re going to expire if you don’t get your fingers in my arse,” he replies wickedly.

Harry laughs and says, “Or if I don’t show up and _you_ need to get your fingers in your ass.” His voice drops to a purr. “Do you do that, Zaynie? When you’re all alone and no one’s staying the night with you, do you finger yourself while you wank? Or maybe you don’t need to jerk off. Maybe you can come just from fucking yourself.” By now, Harry has a hand on the bulge in Zayn’s shorts, rubbing purposefully, and Zayn’s brain already feels scrambled.

Harry continues, casual. “I think about that sometimes when I’m jerking off...or if some girl I brought backstage is blowing me. I think about you all by yourself, fucking yourself on your fingers. It makes me come so much faster.”

Zayn’s mouth drops open. “Oh my god,” he breathes. “That’s so fucking hot.” Harry smiles filthily while he peels off his shirt, then Zayn’s. Leaning down, he begins sucking a mark into Zayn’s neck. He means to leave something to get the internet talking the next day. Meanwhile, Zayn, taking pity on Harry’s erection straining inside his tight jeans, undoes the button and flies, shoving the jeans down until Harry’s cock is free. Zayn starts to gently stroke, with no particular end result in mind. He just wants to feel the heaviness of Harry’s hard prick in his hand.

Harry quickly wriggles the rest of the way out of his jeans, and Zayn thinks about tracing that ridiculous butterfly tattoo with his tongue. But Harry is one step ahead of him and pulls Zayn’s shorts off with a flourish, sinking to his knees in the process. Harry seems to be on a mission, because, instead of his usual habit of taking the time to tease, licking around the head of Zayn’s dick, he immediately takes it all the way in, deep-throating like his life depends on it. Zayn isn’t expecting it and gasps an involuntary “Ah!” Harry is taking Zayn in so deeply that his nose is bumping up against Zayn’s abdomen and Zayn can’t do anything but pant. Zayn has no idea how Harry learned to suck a cock like this but he feels like it should be an Olympic event or something. Harry would definitely win all the gold medals.

Suddenly, Harry pulls off with a pop, lips red and slick with saliva and pre-come. He looks absolutely debauched, already, and Zayn wants to lick him clean. But Harry is standing up and motioning toward the bed. Zayn walks to it, turns, and Harry all but tackles him, knocking him to the mattress and lying on him. Slowly, dirtily, Harry begins grinding their cocks together. Zayn can only clutch at Harry’s biceps and moan. Harry leans in close, waits till Zayn looks him in the eye, and says, “I really want to fuck you, babe. Do you want me to?” and this is unexplored territory; this is something Zayn had not expected but would be lying if he said he’d never thought about. There are probably some deeper implications involved that Zayn should consider but all he can picture right now is Harry’s dick in his ass and his entire body is screaming for it to happen.

“Do it,” he whispers desperately, and Harry scrambles to grab the lube.

Once he has the bottle in hand, Harry stretches out on his belly down by Zayn's legs. He doesn't just want to feel what he's about to do. He wants to see it, wants to watch his fingers sliding in and out of Zayn. Harry slicks up his fingers and carefully presses one inside Zayn, beginning a slow rhythm, taking his time, making sure Zayn is comfortable before adding a second finger. Zayn’s eyes are glazed over already and he’s rocking down on Harry’s fingers. “Harry…do it, do it now. Fuck me,” he rasps out, but Harry presses a kiss to Zayn’s hip and says, “Not just yet, love, you’re not ready. Just another minute,” and then he works a third finger in and Zayn sees stars.

“Alright, Z?” Harry asks. Zayn hums a confirmation and concentrates on relaxing, letting Harry work him open. Finally, Harry is satisfied. “Roll onto your side and pull your knees up, babe,” he says sweetly, and Zayn does. Harry scoots in close behind him and lines his cock up with Zayn’s hole. “Go,” Zayn demands and Harry pushes in, pausing every few seconds to let Zayn adjust.

When Harry is fully sheathed inside, he begins to move in gentle, short thrusts. “Okay?” he grits out, and Zayn responds, “More…I can take more. Give it to me.” Harry slowly picks up the pace, builds up a rhythm, and he’s fucking into Zayn forcefully, but not roughly. The drag of his cock in and out of the tight heat of Zayn’s ass is perfect and he wonders if he will be able to make this last a respectable amount of time. Zayn, meanwhile, has his hand on his own cock and is making little “ah” noises every time Harry thrusts into him, and Harry realizes he’s missing out on the best part of the show.

Slowly, he withdraws from Zayn, who yelps in protest. “I want to try something else,” Harry tells him quickly, and rolls onto his back. Zayn, glancing back over his shoulder, understands. He somewhat clumsily gets to his hands and knees, and straddles Harry.

“Okay, you good, babe?” Harry checks. Zayn nods, and Harry grabs his cock at its base to help as Zayn lowers himself onto it. The look of bliss that flashes across Zayn’s face as Harry’s cock sinks into him proves to Harry he’s done the right thing. Zayn is a work of art and being able to watch him get himself off while they fuck, watch his face as he comes apart, will be the hottest thing Harry has seen in a long while.

Zayn starts riding Harry, insistently, eyes closed, lips parted, and head slightly tipped back. His long eyelashes brush his cheekbones and he’s breathing heavily as he alternates between filthy moans and talking dirty to Harry. “God, Harry, oh god…it’s so good, your cock is perfect, fuck, it feels so good,” he murmurs.

It’s very rare that anyone gets to see Zayn like this, surrendering control, letting his guard down, completely unworried about appearing cool and collected, and Harry is awestruck.

“Zayn…you are so fucking beautiful right now, so good like this for me, so pretty,” he pants out. Zayn looks down at Harry, cheeks pink and brown eyes glassy with pleasure, and Harry is just so fond of him he almost starts to get sappy. But Zayn’s ass is incredibly tight, and Zayn is riding him, hard, with his neglected cock slapping against his tummy and, fuck sentiment, Harry wants an orgasm.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come. Now,” he growls at Zayn, and Zayn immediately gets his hand on himself without breaking cadence. Harry thought nothing could be hotter than watching Zayn bounce on his cock, but he was wrong. Watching Zayn ride him while jerking off is a hundred times better.

Zayn’s hand is moving fast and he’s breathing in ragged gasps. “‘m so close, Harry, I, ah….” he bites off the words and his hips stutter, and then Harry’s chest is striped in Zayn’s come. Zayn slumps a little but keeps moving, and that face and watching him orgasm and the white-hot tightness of Zayn’s ass are all too much for Harry to withstand. His fingers dig into Zayn’s hips and he comes hard, pulse after pulse, as Zayn whispers, “Yeah, babe, that’s it, that’s good, fill me up.” Harry whimpers and shudders through the aftershocks until they stop, leaving him lightheaded, unable to speak, or move, or even blink. He lies on his back doing his best impression of a dead fish, while Zayn lifts himself off and then collapses in a heap next to him.

Zayn reaches out and puts a hand on Harry’s chest. “Y’okay, Hazza?” He sounds concerned. Harry swallows hard and shakes his head to try to clear the cobwebs. “Yeah,” he manages to croak out. “I’m good, Zaynie. I’m really, really good. Fuck, that was amazing. You’re amazing.” Zayn gives Harry a full on, crinkly-eyed smile, and Harry can’t help smiling back. He covers Zayn’s hand, still on his chest, with his own hand, and he wants to say more but he’s already feeling sleepy. If Zayn’s eyes are anything to go by, he’s about to drift off, too. There will be plenty of time to talk about it later. Now, they’ve earned a rest.


End file.
